


Memory

by Itsbadgerbadgermushroom



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:08:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23350717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itsbadgerbadgermushroom/pseuds/Itsbadgerbadgermushroom
Relationships: Ignis Scientia/Reader
Kudos: 20





	Memory

It wasn’t often that you found yourself in an ambiently lit cocktail bar on one of the more upmarket streets in Insomnia and, if you were being completely honest, you’d even go so far as to say that it wasn’t your thing at all. It hadn’t always been that way; in fact, in your early twenties if anyone needed to track you down for any reason, a place like this would have been the first place they would have checked – and they’d have been successful in locating you 99% of the time. However, things changed. YOU changed. You tried your best to look like you were enjoying yourself, your friends had gone to a great deal of trouble to organise your bachelorette party, especially after you’d given them a list of pre-approved activities. It wasn’t that you were boring, it was just you found the whole idea of a wild night on the town whilst wearing L-plates and a fancy dress veil, well… tacky. Which is how you ended up precariously perched on a pretentious looking bar stool, around an ostentatious looking table, drinking the most expensive – although admittedly the nicest - glass of Rioja you’d ever come across. You swirled the garnet liquid around the glass absentmindedly, half listening to the conversation taking place at your table – eyes wandering around the dimly lit room. Smooth jazz filtered through the speakers and snaked its way around the room and you caught yourself beginning to find the whole thing _nostalgic_. You see, while you found this setting wholly uncomfortable, it was familiar.

‘ _A memory_ ’

You shook the thought from your head and went back to trying to participate in the conversation your friends were having. And yet, you could feel it sneaking back into the forefront of your mind, taking you back, forcing you to see his face.

‘ _No_ ’ you thought. ‘ _That’s in the past. In two weeks, I marry my future._ ’

You took another sip from your glass and swallowed hard, repressing the thought once more. You continued your charade, maintaining that precarious façade that made it look like you were having a good time – another two glasses in and it felt like maybe, just maybe, you’d faked it so well that you started to believe it too. So caught up in the revelry, you didn’t notice a ghost slip in through the front door and take a seat at the bar. You didn’t even feel his eyes on you as he watched from above his own glass of red wine. He hadn’t planned on coming into this particular establishment. In fact, even as he saw you through the glass, head tilted back as you were mid-laugh, he knew he should just keep walking, but as much as he willed his feet to keep going forward, he caught himself with his hand on the doorknob and before he could stop himself he pushed the door open and made his way towards the bar. How long had it been since he’d seen you in person? 5 years?

‘ _More_ ’

He recalled the last time you ever spoke to one another and relived the anguish as he remembered the look on your face as he told you that he didn’t have time for a serious relationship and wasn’t looking to get into one. That was nearly 8 years ago, and while was partly true at the time (being the newly crowned King’s advisor was indeed a stressful office to hold) he knew that it was more to do with his own selfishness. He was happy to take you out for drinks and take you back to his place where he would fuck you over and over again on his own watch, but never once gave a thought to the fact that you may have been falling for him. Never once gave a thought to the fact that, from the outside, his actions mirrored those of a gentleman courting his love interest. It was only when you said those three words to him that he realised the magnitude of his actions and understood the gravity of the situation. It wasn’t that he didn’t have feelings for you, he’d never felt this way about a woman before in his life, but he was a practical man and knew that the logistics of maintaining a serious relationship was going to be incredibly tough once he took his new position as the King’s advisor. And so, rather than just explaining his fears to you like the sensible and rational person he usually was, he dismissed both your feelings and his own feelings for you and fed you some bullshit line about not having the time for a relationship but he really enjoyed spending time in your company and would be willing to keep things exactly as they are – no strings attached.

‘ _You bloody fool_ ’

He finished the rest of the ruby liquid in his glass and signalled to the bartender.

“Another pinot noir if you don’t mind, please.”

‘ _That voice_ ’ you thought. ‘ _It can’t be. It’s just in your head_.’

You bristled at the sound, that silky smooth tone enough to burst the bubble of frivolity you’d succeeded in cultivating around yourself.

You turned in your chair slowly, throat constricting as seafoam eyes met your own. You could hand on heart say that Ignis Scientia looked just as good now as he did when you walked away from him for the last time nearly eight years ago. Age was something he was wearing well, it suited him. The faintest of lines framed the corner of his piercing eyes giving them a soft quality that hadn’t been there before. However, there was no denying that underneath his expensive suit, his body was still in impeccable condition.

‘ _And oh what a body it is… Lithe. Toned. The way his abs rippled whenever he was on top… oh god! Stop!_ '

You squeezed your eyes shut, if only to erase the sinful image that had formed in your mind. Hands writhing together, you took a deep breath and slowly opened your eyes. When did it get so warm in here? And Gods your hands were clammy!

Excusing yourself from the table you made your way to the ladies bathroom, making sure to go the long way round so as not to walk near the man from your past. An action that did not go unnoticed. You held tightly onto the basin, steadying yourself. Exactly how much had you had to drink?

‘ _Too much._ ’

You reached for a paper towel from the dispenser and dampened it with cold water. Pressing it to the back of your neck you looked at your own reflection in the mirror and tried to get control of your breathing. You convinced yourself that this was the rioja’s doing and that you just needed to go home and go to bed, you’d wake up with a sore head in the morning and forget about the whole sorry business. But you couldn’t. You knew that, deep down. Because now, every time you thought about going to bed it wasn’t your fiancé you imagined lying next to you.

‘ _Stop._ ’

That was a lie. You didn’t want to stop; you **never** wanted to stop thinking about him. Even now, you could smell his cologne, breathing it in – breathing **him** in – and remembering the way you used to be able to smell it on your bed sheets after he’d made love to you countless times. Made love to you.

‘ _So why couldn’t he say it? Why couldn’t he say it back?_ ’

You knew why he couldn’t say it back. He was too important to the Crown, he was **Ignis Scientia**. He couldn’t afford to get sucked into a romantic relationship whilst he was supporting the King of Lucis – it was his calling, he was born to do it and you had no right to put him in that position. So then why did it hurt so fucking much to hear him say it? Why did it break your heart into a million tiny pieces when he told you that he couldn’t be romantically involved with you?

‘ _Because I knew at that point that I would have to walk away from him forever_.’

The thought of being nothing more than friends with benefits was too much for you to bear. You wanted all of Ignis Scientia or nothing at all; so you walked away. You moved on and met the wonderful man that you were about to marry and life was good.

‘ _Life is good. I’m happy. This is just some weird wine side effect._ ’

You put the paper towel into the bin and adjusted your wrap dress before tucking the loose strands of hair around your face behind your ear. You were going to go home, call your fiancé and forget all about Ignis.

You exited the bathroom and darted your eyes to the bar, feeling relief at seeing the seat, where Ignis had sat, now empty. Giving your apologies to your friends for leaving so soon, you put your coat on and picked your purse up off the table, making sure to thank everybody for organising the evening. At this point you were just desperate to get outside and feel the cool September air on your skin, deciding to walk the block to the Metro station as opposed to flagging down a cab. The feeling of a gentle hand on your wrist along with your name spoken from tender lips took you by surprise. You spun round to face the source of the voice.

“Ignis!”

“It’s been rather a long time, hasn’t it?”

His expression was sorrowful as his eyes found yours.

“Ignis, I have to go. I have nothing to say-“

You turned to leave but, once again, his hand found your wrist, the touch a little more desperate this time.

“You might not, but I do. I’ve got nearly eight years of things I need to say to you.”

“Ignis, please. I can’t…”

And with that, you pulled away from him insistently and turned on your heels, setting off towards the station almost at a jogging pace with stinging eyes and blurred vision from the tears threatening to spill out. Never once did you look back – if you had, you’d have seen the single tear slip down Ignis Scientia’s face as he watched you leave for the second time.

Just under a week had passed since your encounter with Ignis and for nearly a week you had lied to your fiancé. Every “are you sure you’re okay? You seem distracted” was met with a barefaced lie, because every single time he asked you that question your response was always the same:

“I’m fine. I love you.”

The truth was that you **were** distracted. Ever since your encounter with Ignis outside of the cocktail bar you hadn’t been able to think about anything else. Only last night had you looked away from your fiancé’s face as he fucked you because you longed to look into seafoam green eyes instead of his brown ones. You couldn’t even explain to him why you got upset when he handed you a piece of brownie, brownie he’d spent hours making to try and cheer you up. How could you possibly explain to him that his brownies would never be as good as Ignis’ and that you wished it was him making you brownies instead? You couldn’t. And so the guilt gnawed away at you, like woodworm, until you felt hollow and empty. You spoke empty words and gave empty smiles and said an empty goodbye to your fiancé as he went away on his final business trip before the wedding. He’d be gone two days and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t relieved to get him out of the apartment so you could be alone. Alone with your thoughts.

The start of that evening was no different to any other evening spent alone. You’d caught up on all of the trashy tv you couldn’t watch while your fiancé was at home and you were slowly making your way through a bottle of your favourite Malbec whilst listening to one of your many playlists you’d spent hours crafting. The apartment was lit by a single lamp in the living area and all the candles you could find. Tonight was the night you were going to get Ignis Scientia out of your head, for good. You’d retrieved your shoe box of memories from its hiding place in the closet and sat cross legged on the floor, sprawling the contents of the box in front of you. Photographs. Maybe a hundred? Images of a different life – your life. The life you’d very briefly shared with Ignis. Fingers settled on an image taken during a weekend away in Altissia – the two of you sat opposite each other, glasses of red wine in hand, with the scene of the most beautiful sunset over the water behind you. Lips curled upwards into a smile as you remembered how he’d ravaged you that night, wine stained lips leaving wine coloured marks all over your flesh. You gingerly picked up the photograph and held it above the flame, hands trembling. You’d start with this one and not stop until every photograph had been erased. A soft knock at the door disrupted the beginning of your ritual.

The reason you had decided against using the spy-hole before opening the door was unclear – especially considering how late it was – but something told you that it wasn’t necessary. He’d come back to you – you’d summoned him.

A sad smile rested upon his lips as you opened the door.

“I didn’t think you’d answer.”

Without replying you moved behind the door and motioned for him to come inside, closing the door behind him. You walked past him into the living area, picking up your glass of wine as you went and sat yourself down on the sofa.

“Speak” you said quietly, eyes locked onto his.

“I’m a bloody fool” he lowered his gaze, unable to stand your burning scrutiny any longer. “It is not within my nature to make mistakes nor is there a place for it within my line of work” he began. “I pride myself on being the best, on being completely infallible. My work is my life – or so I thought.”

He looked at you, willing you to respond, to say anything. Your expression remained stony and so he continued hesitantly:

“I always thought that as long as I had my duty to the crown, I would be fulfilling my life’s purpose. But what I failed to realise is that my life has no purpose unless I had you in it. My biggest mistake and my biggest regret is not telling you what I should have told you. I’ve been telling myself it every single day since then and now, well now I need to finally tell you. I love you, I’ve always loved you and I was a fool for thinking I could pretend I did not. I had to find you. I had to find you and tell you.”

Tears burned behind your closed eyes as you slowly rose from the sofa, your eyelashes the last line of defence before the floodgates opened. Body quaking, you bit back a sob:

“You don’t love me. You’re lying. I’m getting married in a week – you’ve had eight years to tell me this so there is no way you’d wait until now to tell me that you loved me!”

Five purposeful strides. That’s all it took for Ignis to cross the room from where he was standing to reach you, hands outstretched before him like a toddler taking their first steps. He held your arms gently while you trembled, his grip soft but resolute – keeping you in place, holding you up, just like he had done so many times before. He held you there as he whispered to you.

“It’s you, my darling, it has always been you. I know I have waited too long, but I’m telling you now-“

“You could have told me before! You should have told me before, I’m **engaged** Ignis, engaged! I’m getting married next week… I can’t just…”

“Run away with me.”

You laughed at his suggestion in between your tears, the very thought seemed so absurd but you couldn’t deny the wishful feeling clawing in the pit of your stomach – if only it were that simple.

“Run away? Where to, Ignis?!” the struggle to keep your hysteria in check was at its peak.

“Altissia. Anywhere. Who gives a damn?! Let’s just go.”

The shaking of your head made him fall silent.

“Iggy…”

He moved his hands down your arms and took your hands in his, enveloping them with his slender fingers.

“You haven’t called me that in years”

His eyes met yours and captured them in a soft, loving gaze. The regret and sadness that he’d been harbouring for years was there, like an abandoned boat during a never-ending storm, forever clinging to the hope that he could hold you like this even if it were for one last time.

“Listen, if you can look me in the eyes right now and tell me that you don’t love me and that you want me to go away, I’ll go. I’ll go and you’ll never see nor hear from me again.”

You pulled your gaze away from his and looked to the floor on your right.

“Ignis..”

“Tell me that you don’t love me.”

Your silence felt like an eternity to him and yet the fact it existed at all kindled the remaining spark of hope within him. You hadn’t rebuffed him – not immediately anyway – all the while he traced the shapes of your face with his eyes, committing every feature to memory in case this was the last time he was to ever see you. You slowly raised your tear-filled eyes to meet his seafoam hues.

“You know I can’t do that, Iggy.”

“Forgive me, then.”

He brought his hands to cup your face and crashed his lips against your own, capturing them in a fervent kiss. He kissed you like you were his only lifeline, like you were the only thing tethering him to this mortal plain and if he were to stop, he might just float away. Your instincts took over and you moved your lips against his in earnest, remembering just how to move them in tandem with his – reliving every single kiss you’d ever shared with Ignis Scientia. Your hands found their way into his tawny hair, mussing it slightly in the way you always used to do, the way that made him fake scold you. You barely noticed your feet responding to the gentle push of his body against yours as he used it to steer you towards the bedroom; you barely noticed as he lifted your cami top up and over your head, tossing it with complete disregard to the floor. All you could focus on was the man in front of you and breathing in as much of him as you could, that familiar scent of cedar wood and amber mixed with ginger and cardamom assaulting your senses and bending your will to comply with his every whim.

You knew that what you were doing was very, very wrong, but it was the closest thing to feeling right you’d been in a very long time. It might have taken close to eight years, but it had finally happened.

He’d finally come home to you.


End file.
